


mutual

by dirtyeyes



Series: Ouma/Saihara [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (but only at the end), (literally so much foreplay i'm sorry), Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Saihara Shuichi, Foreplay, Gentleness, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Showers, Smut, Teasing, mild degrading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 04:02:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18563521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtyeyes/pseuds/dirtyeyes
Summary: it all started with the creaking of bed springs...





	mutual

**Author's Note:**

> warning: this piece contains very mild elements of dubious consent at the very beginning. saihara does pretend to resist, although it is (hopefully) clear he enjoys it. it wasn't enough for me to feel justified tagging this as dubious consent, but I felt it was important to note. please only proceed if that's okay with you.

It was the sound of bedsprings creaking in the darkness that alerted Saihara that something was happening.

He tried to sit up, but there was a shuffling noise and a pressing weight spread across his hips that prevented him from doing so. A little snicker escaped Ouma's soft lips just before they pressed against his own. Saihara squirmed, attempting to find a way to escape or at least comfortably distribute the heaviness, but to no avail. For someone so small, Ouma had a remarkable way of really getting Saihara where he wanted him.

"Ouma-kun," he murmured, knowing his partner's face was likely only inches from his, "what do you think you're doing?"

"Remember what I said earlier? I've always wanted to be like you. You know, all dominant and assertive! Aren't I doing a good job?" He grinned childishly, but Saihara couldn't tell his face apart from the rest of the darkness. To go alongside his remarks, he gently cupped Saihara's jaw in his hand.

The detective tried not to think about how much he liked that as his hand reached for the switch on the bedside lamp. As the dim light cast itself across the two of them, Ouma made note of the blush creeping over his boyfriend's face. 

"You can do this, but I'm not going to let you get away with it."

"Empty threat," Ouma replied flippantly, "you know you won't do anything."

Saihara tried to push Ouma off of him, but he was quick to pin his hands above his head. 

"See? You're helpless." Ouma could feel Saihara getting off underneath him, but it only fueled his urge to tease him.

"Get off me." 

"Why would I do that when I can stay on top and tease you?" He pulled Saihara's head up by his chin and leaned in closer to meet eyes with him. Saihara could practically taste the mischief written all over his face. "It's too much fun to pass up."

Realizing that Ouma meant what he was saying, Saihara began to whimper, prompting a giggle from his partner.

"That's pathetic. Look at you, squirming and blushing like that. How about I make this a little easier, hm?" With that, he reached across the bedside table and grasped at a pair of handcuffs. "I'm going to need my hands for this, after all."

"Ouma!" He cried, kicking as his hands were bound. "Let me go!"

"You don't mean that, do you?"

A moment of hesitation hung in the air between them, then Saihara, unable to look him in the eyes, shook his head.

"That's what I thought. Good boy."

A sound escaped Saihara's lips–a mix of desperation and neediness–and Ouma knew he'd hit the right button. 

"What do you get out of struggling if you know you don't mean it? Is it just to avoid the shame of being subservient? Because you know I can see through it. And I'll make sure you're plenty ashamed by the time we're done anyway."

"Don't do that," Saihara advised, voice as sharp as he could manage, "or I'll—I'll kick your ass."

Ouma laughed in his face, forcing a wave of humiliation over Saihara that left him breathless and squirming again. 

"You'll kick my ass? Please, detective, you can barely move. The most you could do would be to—"

As Ouma had spoken, he'd put his hand to Saihara's jaw once more in the hopes of aggressively jerking his head up to punctuate his words. Instead, just as he had been about to say it was all Saihara had the power to do, he found himself narrowly avoiding the capture of his fingers by way of teeth. 

"Hey!" His sharp exclamation made Saihara giggle. Ouma decided he needed to put a stop to that. "Don't you misbehave!"

"Or what?"

Ouma put a hand around his throat and gave a sharp squeeze. "Or I'll punish you, my beloved Saihara-chan. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Saihara's expression contorted with fear and arousal and gasps for air. He nodded, a voiceless cascade of pleas falling past his lips as he desperately begged for release in every sense of the word.

"Good. We're on the same page then." He let go, causing a rush of blood to go to Saihara's head. "Now, let's see. What do you think would be best? I'm just so indecisive tonight." 

"Ouma-kun, please," he mumbled.

"Please what?" He replied, a hint of mockery in his voice.

"Please, please do whatever you want with me."

Ouma squirmed uncomfortably at the way Saihara's words aroused him. The desperation and neediness was too much for him to bear. He almost felt guilty for wanting to tease him. "Now, now," he said, trying to keep his tone even and calm so as not to let on his lack of control, "don't you start begging like some kind of kicked puppy, otherwise I'll have to gag you."

"But I– I need you. Please." 

"What did I say?"

"Not to beg," he answered immediately, like a scolded child.

"And yet, you're begging. I suppose I'll just have to punish you. Get up."

Ouma pulled himself off of Saihara and aided his bound partner in getting to his feet, only to force him down onto his knees on the carpet. He giggled at the pathetic, puppy-eyed look on Saihara's face as he stared up at him, anticipating what was to come. To add insult to injury, he patted him on the head and told him, "good boy," making him squirm.

"What are you doing?" Saihara asked gently.

He didn't answer. Instead, he began to unbutton his pants. Saihara whimpered, unsure if he was excited or afraid.

"Look at you, how pathetic." Ouma's tone was sharp and authoritative. Saihara couldn't help but shift around in his kneeling position, desperate for friction. "Sit still and behave while you serve me and maybe I'll give you a little leniency for it."

"Ouma-kun, stop it!"

"Stop what, degrading you? You know you like it. Now shut up and do as you're told."

With no better way to clarify what he meant than to demonstrate, he forced Saihara to take him into his mouth. Saihara let out a moan, albeit a muffled one, and relished in the feeling of Ouma threading his hands through his hair.

"Fuck," he murmured, "you're going too slowly. Speed up."

Saihara slowed down, just to spite him, since biting felt too mean. He slowly pulled back off of Ouma's cock and licked a slow, long stripe right down his shaft. Seeing his partner weak in the knees satisfied his need for bratty revenge. At the very least, it made him feel the slightest bit of power, and that was enough for him. 

Once he felt he'd sufficiently teased his partner, he took him in again and bobbed his head up and down, stroking him with his tongue, desperate to please in the hopes that Ouma would be kind with him. Being on his knees like that, hands cuffed behind his back and being forced to obey was exhilarating. It made him feel so terribly needy, and so hopelessly subservient that he couldn't help but vocalize his enjoyment.

Ouma, on the other hand, was having a difficult time dealing with the responsibilities of being a dom. He had to put lots of effort into not immediately begging Saihara to hurry up and let him find release. He felt bad for forcing him around but it also felt very nice to have all of the control over the situation. His face was painted with rose pink and his breaths staggered. His hands squeezed Saihara's hair with white knuckles as he finally came with a cry of his boyfriend's name on his lips.

Saihara pulled himself back, swallowing as he did so despite finding it a bit uncomfortable. The sound Ouma made, the way his hands moved as he buttoned his pants again—it was so attractive, so alluring, and Saihara wanted him badly. 

In control once again, Ouma smirked and petted Saihara's head. "What a good boy. You did so well."

Saihara beamed, the praise bringing him intense pleasure and making him even more eager to please. Ouma could sense this, in a way, as he crouched down to be at eye level with him.

"Should I just gag you next time, or do you think that's sufficient punishment?" 

He stammered for a moment, overstimulated and finding it hard to decide either way. "I'm not sure."

"Hmm," he said, feigning deep thought, "I think I'll try gagging you next time. That sounds fun."

Saihara whimpered.

"Is that fear or excitement? I can never tell. If it's excitement, then I could just do it right now." His tone was a humored threat, but in conjunction with the softness he saw in Ouma's eyes, Saihara could tell he probably wouldn't really do it.

"Ouma-kun," he asked, changing the subject with the most pleasant and agreeable voice he could muster, "could you please just move on and make me come already?"

"Oh? Tired of being bossed around, are we?"

Saihara nodded. That was his first mistake.

Ouma grinned. "Good. I'll make sure I continue."

"No," he whined. "I just want you to— to fuck me."

"Aww," Ouma remarked, disappointed, "but I love seeing you like this! You're so cute this way."

"Well, I–"

Without warning, Ouma put a finger to Saihara's lips and shushed him. Saihara blushed, as if his face could get any redder, and did as he was prompted. He earned himself another pat on the head. 

"Don't say another word. Come on, stand up."

Weak in the knees and shaky all over, he stood with a bit of effort. It was uncomfortable but he felt as if he had no choice, since between the look on his partner's face and the threat of being gagged, he knew he had far less leeway than one would expect. He almost felt bad for standing taller than Ouma. His pants tented, visibly so. Ouma reveled in the way he looked—the needy look in his eyes, the sweat on his face, his meek posture—it was nice to look at, and even nicer to control.

"On the bed."

"How? I can't– I can't lay on my back. I'll be on top of my hands." Saihara spoke softly, his voice wavering and small. That was the second mistake.

"Did I say you could speak?" His voice sounded dominant and authoritative, but internally, he was beginning to feel a little differently about how to continue. Of course, it was nice to torment Saihara a little, but he disliked being mean to him. He elected to change course once the opportunity presented itself.

Ouma's words sent a wave of arousal over him and he was dangerously close to pleading with him to quit the teasing already, even despite knowing the punishment. He shook his head.

"Then what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm– I'm sorry," he replied, looking away. "Forgive me."

"Don't worry." He found his aforementioned opportunity, and his demeanor softened suddenly. "I was going to un-cuff you anyway. I've had my fun with those, Saihara-chan." 

Gently, as if all in one smooth motion, he released Saihara and guided him down onto the bed. With his partner on his back, Ouma placed himself between his legs, their hips meeting, and kissed him. He could feel the erection up against him, but it didn't bother him any. The only thing he focused on was the soft little noises Saihara made as he kissed his throat. Then, he leaned up to where Saihara had rested his arms above his head and moved on to his wrists, peppering the red lines from the cuffs. 

The tenderness shocked Saihara after the aggressive display of power Ouma had just shown him. He didn't speak, he simply allowed whatever was going to happen. When Ouma pulled away and made as if to reach for the waist of Saihara's pants, he first looked into Saihara's eyes with a questioning expression, as if to say, "may I?" The mischief was gone, and so was the control and power Saihara knew moments before. The only thing left was affection that warmed him like sunlight. 

If he hadn't been so caught up in what was going on, it would've made him smile.

"Ouma-kun, why are you—"

Ouma shushed him again, saying, "don't worry. I was mean. Let me make it up to you."

"Do you... feel bad? For bossing me around?"

"Of course!" He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Really?" 

"No. Not really. But I'm sure it was nice to think," he said, his inflection one that Saihara recognized was only used when he wasn't telling the truth. Of course, he didn't mention this, but it was worth noting. "Now let me continue."

Ouma pulled down Saihara's pants and underwear as slowly and tantalizingly as he could. To Saihara, it was torture. He kissed the inside of Saihara's thighs, then, with as much care as he could, he grabbed his erection, leisurely teasing him with his fingers. Saihara struggled to keep quiet—a battle which he didn't win—as Ouma played with him in just the right way to make him last.

"Ouma-kun, please," he whined.

"Shush. You don't have to beg me."

"But I– I want you to hurry up!"

"Be patient." He paused to accommodate the moan that crossed Saihara's lips. "I'll take care of you."

As Ouma began to pick up the pace, Saihara pushed his hips up into his hand, so he used the other hand to press down on his thigh for stability as he put his mouth around the head of Saihara's cock. He teased him with his tongue, keeping a watchful eye on his facial expression, then pulled off of it with a slight noise. 

Saihara squirmed and cried, mouthing a plea that Ouma didn't hear nor see as he tried his best to torture his poor detective. Ouma pushed him over the edge with flicks of his tongue and the slight of his hands. He felt Saihara tense up underneath him, writhing and whining, then relax as he came all over both of them. Ouma sat up to observe his breathlessly satisfied partner.

There was a moment between the two of them right after, in which they locked eyes. There was no shortage of lust to go around, but it Saihara could see in the softness of Ouma's gaze that he loved him, and that made his chest feel warm. 

"Come on," Ouma said, breaking him out of his reverie. "We should get cleaned up."

He pulled him up off the bed and led him to the bathroom, gently ensuring he kept his balance. He leaned against the sink as Ouma turned on the shower. It felt cold pressing against his back. He then felt the warm water against his head and shoulders as he stepped under the stream, and it felt deeply cleansing. Ouma stepped in behind him and slowly ran his fingers through Saihara's hair, hands coated in product, working up a lather. Saihara wasted no time melting into it.

"Do you like that, Saihara-chan?"

Saihara nodded, pushing up against his hands. He stood and focused on the feeling of the water washing away all of the fluids on him and the feeling of Ouma's hands pressing up against his scalp. 

"Good boy. Let me take care of you," he said, his lips next to Saihara's ear. "It'll feel so nice, I promise. Just be good for me and stay still."

"Are you trying to turn me on again?"

"Trying? No. But if I do I wouldn't call it a bad thing."

"What do you get out of this?"

"I get to make you feel safe, secure. That's a privilege you afford very few people." Ouma paused for a moment, gathering a decent amount of conditioner into his palm, then continuing what he'd been doing. "Don't worry about my motives, detective. Just enjoy yourself."

Adding extra emphasis on the "detective," Ouma slid his hands across Saihara's body, palms full of soap. He knew Saihara blushed when he called him that, and had long since stopped correcting him by saying he wasn't really a detective. Saihara listened to the spray of the shower and felt the gentle touch of his partner. There was nothing he could've wanted more.


End file.
